


Check, Please

by Alyssa_bird



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Waiter!Sherlock, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyssa_bird/pseuds/Alyssa_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock learns that his waiter disguise is a bit too convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Check, Please

**Author's Note:**

> Quick write taking place during the dinner scene in The Empty Hearse.

"Well, surprise me."

"Certainly endeavoring to, sir."

Sherlock snatched away the menu from John's hand. The git hadn't even bothered to look up. Idiot. Quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to John and he hadn't even bothered to at least look up at him! He supposed he better go retrieve the champagne from the kitchen, shouldn't be too hard to sneak in and sneak out undetected. 

Sherlock was considering that the French accent may have been a bit too much when he was stopped by a dark-haired woman sitting by herself. 

"Excuse me, sir!"

Sherlock stopped.

"Can I please get a glass of water?"

Oh, dear. She thought he was actually a waiter. Well, at least someone noticed him. 

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm off for the night but I'm sure someone else can help you..."

"Oh, could you be an angel for me? I've been trying to get someone's attention for ages! You're the first one who has stopped for me!" 

Sherlock sighed, "Alright, I'll have your water right out."

It shouldn't be too much trouble to get the woman a quick glass of water and John's champagne. John. Sherlock smiled to himself, John was sure going to get a kick out of all this. He wondered how John would react. He hoped he wouldn't cry, although he didn't doubt it - John had always been the emotional sort. Perhaps he'd go into shock, John would be so happy that is would render him speechless! Sherlock chuckled to himself, thinking of the look on John's face when a voice jerked him from his thoughts. 

"Can I have some help please?"

An older gentleman eating with two young men waved Sherlock over to his table.

"Actually sir, if you could perhaps wait for-"

"It'll only be a moment," The man insisted.

Sherlock clicked his tongue. "Fine. How can I help you tonight?"

"Would you suggest the steak or the veal?" The man questioned.

The three men stared at Sherlock, who stood wordlessly. 

"Uh," Shelrock stuttered before composing himself. "The veal is the best in all of London but the steak is nothing to sneer at." 

The man nodded thoughtfully. "Very well! I'll have the steak, medium rare," He looked at the two young men sitting across from him. "What are you two having?"

Sherlock studied the two men. The one with the auburn hair must be related to the older man. Same nose, same eyes, same mouth. Possibly a younger brother but most likely a son. Now, the other man, his features were vastly different, therefore no relation to the two others. A friend? A colleague? His eyes zeroed in on the silver band on his left ring finger. Aha! Fiancé! He searched the auburn haired man for a ring and found an identical band around his finger as well. Rings were shiny, fairly new. Father and son celebrating a new engagement. 

Still got it. 

"We'll have the veal, please."

Christ, did they really expect him to serve them? This was beginning to go too far.

"Thank you," The old man said, politely dismissing him. "That'll be all."

"Very well," Sherlock turned on his heels and finally made it to the kitchens. 

"Hey!" A portly man stopped as Sherlock entered the kitchen. "Who are you?"

Chef. No, wait. Head chef actually. Shit.

"I'm just filling in for tonight, we're short handed, I'm afraid."

"I ain't never seen you work here before, even when we were short handed. Also, you got black smudges on your lip!" 

"Listen!" Sherlock snapped. "I have a table to serve, a parched diner, and a bottle of champagne to deliver! I have no time for this!"

The chef look very offended, "All these waitors....so touchy...." The chef said under his breath. 

"I need a steak and two veal for table nine!" Sherlock yelled after the grumbling Chef. 

"Oh, thank God!" Sherlock heard a voice shriek. He turned to see a tiny waitress behind him. She shoved the tray of food she held in Sherlock's arms. "Please cover me and take this to table twelve, they're getting rather cranky! You're a lifesaver!" 

Before Sherlock could say a word, the waitress, laden with two heavy trays, went back out the swinging doors. Jeez, put on a bow tie and some glasses and bam! You're just another faceless server.

Armed with a tray, a glass of water, and a bottle of champagne cradled in his free arm, Sherlock made his way to the dining area. After serving table twelve and delivering the woman at table five her water ("I was just about to die from dehydration!"), Sherlock finally made his way back to table ten. John's table.

John. Here we go.

He gripped the bottle tighter, nerves finally getting to him. He quickly shook them off, why should he be nervous?

What could possibly go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> I just always thought it was funny that Sherlock came back to John's table with champagne, it made me wonder what exactly he had to go through to get it!


End file.
